The prospect of a military intervention in Egypt looks inevitable given the country’s chaotic transition.

If the generals do seize the mantle of leadership that others have failed to effectively grasp, their move would suggest something much deeper than crass opportunism. Paradoxically, any military coup would underline one of the most striking features of Egyptian politics since the January 25, 2011, uprising: the absence of a political vision that should have been central in unifying the country.

The popular revolt that has seen millions of people take to the streets maybe a catharsis of empowerment that the Tamarud (or Rebellion) Movement has generated, but by itself this will not produce new leaders capable of deflecting the military’s renewed efforts in shaping the course of political change. In any event, the generals will be sailing against the headwinds of widespread public dissent.

To appreciate the challenges facing Egypt we should be clear who bears the most responsibility for this crisis. That responsibility sits firmly with the Muslim Brotherhood and its Justice Freedom Party. The Brotherhood has failed to grasp the important task of how elected leaders in any society should define a new basis for democratic national unity. Central to that is the need to create a symbolic language that promises both inclusion and reconciliation. Language is not merely about a perfunctory readiness to share power with rivals, but, along with reconciliation, must be pivoted around public acts and rhetoric that reassures those who have the most to fear from the type of democracy unfolding in Egypt.

It has been on this level that President Morsi of Egypt has failed, and why so much of the post-mortem analysis of the transition misses the point. The defenders of the Muslim Brotherhood have portrayed a story of efforts to include non-Islamists in the Cabinet of Mr Morsi and of the assembly that was drawn up to write a new constitution. They have, though, been carefully selecting their details.

Mohammad Morsi promised on his inauguration day to represent ‘all Egyptians’. Yet, in the year that followed, Brotherhood leaders communicated intolerance and arrogance to both their secular rivals and their Salafi competitors. Such language has only reinforced the commitment of the Brotherhood’s rank and file to marginalise and humiliate their rivals.

This humiliation came to a head in December 2012 when secular activists were taken hostage by Brotherhood radicals and tortured. The Internet videos of Brotherhood extremists delighting in the pain and degradation of their prisoners destroyed any basis of trust there might have been.

But if the Brotherhood bears most of the responsibility for the current crisis, the leaders of the Tamarud Movement must also face some tough questions. Having brought millions of people into the streets, what is its game plan? How, too, will the Tamarud avoid signalling to all Egyptians that the price its followers must now pay for two years of bad leadership is yet another form of political exclusion or a political process that might ultimately end up being controlled by the military?

Under Hosni Mubarak the Muslim Brotherhood had been prisoners of a system that denied them any hope of exercising any real political power. Freed from such shackles by the January 25 uprising, they sought immediate political vengeance.

But if the Brotherhood is at fault by taking revenge, the leaders of the Tamarud must now face the challenge of putting aside their own desires (or that of their followers) for score settling and focus instead on building a grass-roots political party that can help Egypt back to inclusive democratic governance.